


balancing on breaking branches

by manhattans_here



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Again, Angst, Canon Era, I have changed, M/M, There's a little blood, Uh blood, all the newsies have powers, but also part of the superpower au, but yea i suppose do what you want with it, henry is a healer, i had a breakdown mid writing this, it wasn't morris' fault iwill defend him, it's mostly focused on henry, it's not too graphic but like finch get stabbed and fuckin dies, maybe i should check my mental health, not spromeo tho they're gay, that's all you need to know from this au for this to make sense, this isn't necessarily written as romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattans_here/pseuds/manhattans_here
Summary: henry knew he was different from his family ever since he could remember himself.
Relationships: Finch/Henry (Newsies), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Romeo/Specs (Newsies)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	balancing on breaking branches

Henry knew he was different from his family ever since he could remember himself.

He wasn’t dense, he noticed how his touch would heal every wound, how his voice could clear every mind in seconds. He had a gift and he recognized it, although he tried to keep in to himself. When he started working as a newsie, he was always called to help the younger ones fall back asleep after they’d had a nightmare, he’d always be the one the kids his age would come to after they’d been caught up in a fight, and he could always deal with it. He’d heal every blackened eye and every slit lip and he didn’t even have to think about it, he took pride in what he could do. Jack was the first one to see that, to see that he was different, and so he took him under his wing, like many other newsies who had gifts like him. Take Romeo for example, he could talk anyone into doing anything he wanted. Or Jojo, who could change the way he looked, Racetrack who could speak with ghosts, there were many like him there. It made him feel warm and at home. With the newsies, he finally belonged.

Of course, being a healer always came with its downsides. Sometimes it felt like too much was expected of him. Hell, kids’ lives were in his hands, what if he failed? What if just once, he didn’t make it? That would be on him, it’s supposed to be his job to keep them all safe and healthy. Henry couldn’t often give himself a break, he was constantly on the edge, waiting until someone needed him.

Most of the time, it was Race or Albert. Occasionally Tommy Boy, maybe Finch, sometimes even Romeo, who was always the worst because let me tell you, that boy was a lover, not a fighter, no matter how much he’d get himself in trouble. On every regular day, someone would inevitably drag him back to the lodging house to fix Albert’s nose.

_Henry sighed as he stomped into the room where he found the redhead sat on his bunk, grinning sheepishly at him. “Hey, Henry.” He greeted, but Henry just glared at him in response, taking his seat next to him. “What the hell, Albert? What was it this time.”_

_Albert mumbled an inaudible sentence under his breath. Henry was honestly getting tired of his bullshit. “What was that?”_

_“Spot Conlon called Racer a bitch.”_

_“Spot Conlon called Racer a bitch.” He repeated, shaking his head disapprovingly. “And you decided the best thing to do about it was fight him, Al, why would ya try to fight_ Spot Conlon _?”_

_“Hey, to be fair, I could’ve won! He used powers.” Albert defended himself. “’Sides, we newsies needs ta stand up for each other.”_

_“We newsies also needs ta not fucking’ die, Al!” Henry scolded him, letting out a long sigh. “Just… at least try to take care. You’s gonna get yourself killed and maybe I won’t be fast enough ta save your ass.” He mumbled, focused on Albert’s broken nose rather than any protests he was babbling out. He traced his finger over the bridge, observing as the bones cracked back into place. “Ya should be good. Go get cleaned up, you has blood on your eyebrows.”_

_“Thanks, Henry, love ya!” Albert smiled, starting to search for a clean shirt for himself._

Fixing up broken bones was almost a routine for Henry, he hated seeing his newsies getting hurt, but was glad he was able to help. He sloved his friends, even if they’d constantly get themselves in trouble, sometimes over things he himself found pointless. God knows how many times Race returned to the lodge with a black eye just because of some argument at the Sheepshead, or how many times Mush would turn up all bruised just because of a stupid street brawl he probably wasn’t even supposed to be involved in. Still, he found it endearing, most of the time. It was part of them, their impulsiveness, their recklessness, even if sometimes it meant them getting in trouble.

That’s why the days of the strike were different.

That period was the worst for Henry. The day of the fight, countless of newsies, some not even from Manhattan came up to him looking weak and hopeless, wounds and bruises scattered all over their bodies and this time, it wasn’t even their fault. It wasn’t some goofy fight they’d gotten into with a fellow newsie, it wasn’t a bump on the head caused by something throw at them from a poor shop owner who’d been the provider of their unpaid lunch. This came beyond their control way too quickly, the images of his friends struggling to fight off the cops had been carved in his brain and being the one to deal with it made it ten times more difficult. He still remembered how he felt his stomach ache when Specs walked in the common room with Romeo.

_“Romeo!” Race was the first one to notice their arrival “Fuck’s sake, Specs, is he alright? You guys missed the headcount, I thought you was lost!” Henry’s head snapped up at the mention of them. Specs and Romeo were, in fact, standing on the doorway. Romeo looked beat, Specs had an arm around his waist, supporting him so he could walk. He was obviously still dizzy, but at least he was awake. No one had seen him after that blow on the head, Specs had scooped him out of the fight scene before he could get any more hurt. More kids had noticed their entrance in the room and had gathered around the two, muttering to each other._

_“Hey, quit it, quit crowding him!” Specs dragged himself and Romeo away from the others and sat on the couch, Romeo lying down beside him. Henry took a seat next to them. “Let me have a look at him, okay?”_

_“Specs?” Romeo slurred, reaching his arm out to the boy. “Specs, ‘m sleepy, want ta sleep.”_

_“Hey, I know, Ro.” Specs smiled at him, holding his hand. “You’s gotta stay awake for a little longer ‘til Henry makes ya well. Then you can sleep.” Henry sighed, pushing the boy’s hair out of his forehead to take a better look. The bleeding had stopped, he’d thought Specs would deal with that anyways. The wound wasn’t big, but he’d still been hit with a lot of force and although Henry could close it and decrease the bump on his head, he’d probably still be dizzy for a little while._

_“Does it still hurt, Ro?” Henry asked, careful to keep his voice low._

_“Mmh, no, don’t hurt anymore.” Romeo responded, already half asleep. “Head’s spinnin’, though. Wanna sleep.”_

_“That’s alright, Ro, you can go sleep now.” Henry said, as soon as he deemed his wound healed enough. “Take him to his bunk, make sure he rests and the fellas don’t wake him. He ain’t hurt anymore, but he’ll still be all dizzy for a bit.”_

_Specs nodded, thanking him before he collected the boy in his arms, walking to the bunkroom. Romeo babbled incoherent sentences the entire time, which would normally make him think he’s probably concussed but in Romeo’s case, he babbled incoherent sentences every time he was tired, so it was nothing to worry about. Henry fell back on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. Romeo was only one of the boys who got hurt in that fight, and for what? For asking to be paid enough for a loaf of bread? Crutchie was already taken by Snyder and Jack was missing, their last hope was basically hanging by a thread and if Katherine’s report didn’t make it to the papers they were a lost cause._

Of course, the strike was won, to his delight.

_The moment Jack announced their victory, all the newsies broke into cheers and laughter, drunk on their triumph. Romeo was running amongst the crowd, hugging everyone who stood on his way, lots of them had clustered around Crutchie, who was grinning from one ear to another, feeling ecstatic that he was able to celebrate and be next to his friends again. He could swear Racetrack even shed a few tears, although he would definitely deny that later. Henry took a moment to process what they had accomplished, sitting down on the pavement. He laughed to himself. They won. This was far beyond them, every little kid working on the streets was celebrating that day, and it was all because of them._

_“You alright, Henry?” He heard a second voice say, as he sat down next to him. Finch._

_“We won, Finch, we actually did it.” He turned to him, beaming. “I’se alright, just… wow, gosh.”_

_“Yeah, tell me about it.” Finch chuckled. His eyes were practically shining as they observed all their friends running up and down the streets, crying out in delight. Henry had spotted some of the couples trying to subtly get themselves out of the scene, he smiled when Mush pulled Blink into an alley, sneaking a kiss. “Hadn’t even thought we can do somethin’… somethin’ like this.”_

_“Still feels like a dream, honestly.” Henry breathed out. “These past weeks has been the most stressed I’se ever been.”_

_“Hey, ‘s alright now.” Finch smiled at him. He felt a hand wrapping around his own but didn’t dare look down. “Let yourself relax, yeah? Strike’s over, we’se alright.”_

_“…Yeah, I suppose we is.”_

_“So, you ready to go back out there?” Finch stood up, reaching out a hand to him. Henry felt a smile rise to his lips, taking Finch’s hand. It was alright. They’d be fine._

_He could let himself relax._

Relax.

That was the last thing on Henry’s mind as he rushed through the streets of Manhattan, trailing behind Elmer who had barged into the lodging house, on the verge of panic, asking for him. Someone was hurt. Someone was hurt and he didn’t know, he wasn’t there. He’d returned to the lodge early, Elmer couldn’t find him in his usual spot. What if he was late, what if someone got injured badly? Elmer took a turn into an alley, where he soon discovered Finch was sat against the wall. Henry froze for a second; the boy’s shirt was soaked in blood. He leaned down in front of him, struggling to untuck his shirt so he could lift it over the wound.

“Oh my god, oh gosh, fuck.” Henry didn’t know when breathing became so difficult to him, but he could feel his chest heaving as he quickly pulled off his hat, pressing it against the wound. “This should- the bleeding, this should stop the bleeding. What happened? Finch?”

“Fuckin’ Morris Delancey, the fucker stabbed me.” Finch panted.

“It wasn’t Morris, Henry, Snyder made him!” Elmer cried. “He was terrified, he didn’t want ta-“

“Later, Elm.” Henry stopped him. “Just- Go tell the others to fetch help, I don’t think I’m fast enough for this.” Elmer nodded before he ran off, calling out Jack’s name.

“Am I dyin’, Henry?” Finch asked. “I feel tired, thinks I’ll die.”

“No, no, y’ain’t dying, Finch, you’se ok.” Henry reassured him, although he didn’t fully believe it himself. “I’se gotta touch the wound, Finch. It’s gonna hurt, but I’se gotta heal you, okay?” Finch just nodded. Henry removed the cap from the boy’s stomach, lightly pressing his hand on the wound. Finch winced at the contact, letting out a whine.

“Hey, I know, it hurts but it’s all gonna be okay, Elm’s gonna get you help, just hold on for a little longer.” He said, and felt Finch’s hand grabbing oh his arm. “I know, Finch. Just a little longer.”

“I don’t thinks I can do it.” Finch struggled to speak, his eyelids getting heavier. “Gotta sleep, Henry, I can’t do it.”

“No, Finch please, Elmer’s gonna be back, just one minute.” The wound was deep and Henry needed more time. He still hadn’t stopped bleeding and it didn’t seem to close.

“Would ya tell Elm I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for him?”

“What- No! No, Finch, the fuck you’se talking about? You ain’t gonna die, you just gotta stay up, just for a little bit.” Henry could feel the tears that had been building up in his eyes roll down his face. He wasn’t gonna panic, he couldn’t panic now. He needed to have his full focus on the wound, on Finch. “Shit, just stay awake for me, Finch. Tell me ‘bout how selling went, or about Mme Augustin’s cats, alright?”

He got no response.

“…Finch?”

The grip on his arm had loosened, Finch’s hand falling down on his lap.

“Finch, you’s awake?”

His hand trailed from the wound to the boy’s chest. It was still, lifeless. Henry didn’t dare look up at him. He knew what he’d find and he couldn’t bear to look at it. He felt his limbs give up on him as he collapsed on top of the body that Finch left behind, a heartsick cry escaping his throat. He clenched onto what was simply the remains of the boy he once knew, feeling his breath caught in his throat. He was too late. He didn’t make it on time and now Finch was gone. He was _dead_ , all because of him. These were the thoughts that raced his head as he mourned over his friend’s body, each coming to him like a punch in the stomach _. It was his fault_. He hadn’t realized how long he stayed like that before he could hear Elmer approach him, accompanied by some other voices. He couldn’t identify them, it was all a blur to him. He screamed and kicked in protest when someone tried to drag Finch out of his reach, he felt a pair arms wrap around him.

“It’s alright, Henry” He could hear someone shush him. “It’s okay, breathe, Henry.” None of the words got through the wall his brain built, letting in nothing but the only phrases he dreaded to find. _It’s your fault_.

Henry could do nothing but sob, his entire body shaking.

_You killed him._

**Author's Note:**

> what do you mean im 'projecting my guilt'???


End file.
